


Time After Time

by HibernatingHermit



Category: Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (2010)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Arguing, Arranged Marriage, Banter, Bis being Bis, Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dastan being a pile of mush around Tamina, Death, Desert, Destiny, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting to Know Each Other, Hopefully everyone is in character, Horses, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, POV Third Person, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Princes & Princesses, Resurrection, Romance, Royalty, Secrets, Self-Sacrifice, Serious Injuries, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Siblings, Slow Burn, Snakes, Sparring, Swordfighting, Tamina being haughty and stuff, Teasing, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Wedding Night, Weddings, a horse - Freeform, ish, mentions/references to sex and virginity, minor harrassment at one point but it's pretty mild, there are horses but that was mostly a tangled reference, time travel sort of, wedding night but nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HibernatingHermit/pseuds/HibernatingHermit
Summary: “If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting...time after time.”Tamina finds herself married to Dastan, the very man who breached the walls of her city. Despite her disdain for him, however, she finds herself drawn to him, the mystery of him, and the sadness in his eyes.Dastan is married to Tamina, but not in the way he would have dreamed. In this time, she doesn’t know him, doesn’t like him, and most certainly does not love him. And yet, his heart yearns for her.He keeps his knowledge of the Dagger a secret...until he no longer can.
Relationships: Dastan/Tamina (Prince of Persia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	1. The Lion of Persia

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, my first fanfic that’s not a one-shot. I’ve had some semblance of this plot sitting around in my files for about two years, and finally bit the bullet and decided to write it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)

It was, in Tamina's mind, a rather unsavory arrangement. Marriage to the youngest of the three arrogant princes who had desecrated her city and accused her of crimes in a war she had no part in. It was because of their meddling that she found herself forced into this political alliance to mend a broken bridge that never would have needed mending in the first place, if only those Persians could have kept their swords in their sheaths.

The wedding feast was noisy with celebration, Persians everywhere being rowdy and destructive as usual. Tamina watched as her new husband drank with his brothers and Bis, that soldier who seemed always to be glued to his side. The Persian king sat watching them, and once in a while Tamina could hear snatches of the brothers' teasing. It was crude humor, revolving around events that typically took place on the wedding night, and seemed to mostly generate from the dark-haired brother, Prince Garsiv.

Tamina disliked all the Persians, but in the weeks that had passed since the attack, she had developed a special distaste for Garsiv. He was wild, short-tempered, and overly eager to spring into a fight. Even down to the way he breathed, harshly and loudly. It wasn't a wonder that he hadn't any wife.

The elder, Prince Tus, seemed more diplomatic, more one for words than actions. He was undoubtedly overly pleased with himself and had far too many wives, but he hadn't the ferocity that Garsiv exuded.

And Dastan, well, after the proposal and their walk through her private garden, he'd scarcely uttered a word in her presence. During talks of the marriage and alliance, of treaties and agreements and other such business, he would sit silently and observe it all. She would catch him looking at her, only for him to turn away once he noticed she'd seen. 

She found it hard to get a read on him. If she'd tried to speak to him — which admittedly wasn't often — he would avoid looking her in the eye, and give only the most minimal of responses. Perhaps he was ashamed of attacking her city. Though she scarcely believed shame to be a feeling familiar to a prince of Persia.

The thing that made her wonder most about him, however, was the Dagger. He had stolen it from Asoka, only to return it almost immediately to her. There was no way he could have known what it really was, surely. Her hand moved unconsciously to the chain that hung around her neck, supporting the small glass phial that contained some of the Sand. He had seemed so intent on returning the Dagger. The way he had held it so gingerly in his hands, as if he knew its value, its power. As if he had understood the reverence with which she and the Guardians always treated it. The way he never asked why a highly trained soldier had been trying to smuggle it out of the city, why it was so closely guarded. Most likely, he had just returned it in a symbolic way, exactly as he had said: a gift for the proposal. But his lack of curiosity she found disconcerting.

She watched as he smiled and laughed with his family. He at least didn't have that strange glint of trouble in his eye that Garsiv possessed. In fact, Dastan's blue eyes seemed rather sad sometimes. But now he seemed pleasantly drunk. She sipped her own wine, trying to enjoy the time she had until she was spirited away to her bedchamber and made to wait until he arrived to consummate the marriage. She despised the idea of lying with him. 

First, she didn't know him. Not really. She counted herself fortunate to at least have met him before being forced to marry him, but that didn't make the idea of sharing her body with him any less unpleasant. 

Second, she wasn't sure if she even liked him. He was Persian, to begin with, and a prince at that, albeit adopted. But adopted or no, he was still Persian, and therefore had grown up being told he was entitled to everything there ever was. But regardless of if she liked him or not, she really wasn't ready to lie with him. She'd spent her whole life never expecting to be married. There had never been any need for it. And that particular marital duty was not one that she had ever especially wished for, nor particularly longed for.

But now here she was, a bride, with a very Persian husband. A warrior husband. She'd seen him sparring with Bis, and she saw how deadly he was capable of being. Which brought to wonder why he hadn't killed Asoka when stealing the Dagger. If the Lion of Persia had been so eager to breach the walls of her city, to defeat her soldiers, why wouldn't he have slain Asoka where he lay?

"Your Highness?"

Tamina turned to see one of her ladies in waiting hovering nearby, and nodded for the young woman to speak.

"It is time to retire for the evening, Highness."

+++

Dastan avoided leaving the feast for as long as he could before Garsiv started hounding him about it. He went to his own room and shed off his heavy wedding clothes and sword, leaving himself in only a loose white tunic and his trousers and boots. He wandered the corridors until a servant found him. He feigned confusion, claiming he was lost in the winding passages, though in truth he was all too acutely aware of exactly where she was.

All too soon — and yet not soon enough — he stood at her door. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and rapped lightly.

"Come in," he heard her say from inside.

Closing his eyes and willing himself strength, he turned the handle and walked in. She stood near the doorway to the balcony, illuminated by moon and candlelight, clad in a long embroidered shift, her dark tresses cascading over her shoulders. She was washed free of the delicate designs that had been painted on her bronze skin, of the paint that had adorned her face. So fierce and beautiful was she, that the sight of her nearly stole his breath away. He exhaled deeply, silently praying for the strength not to kiss her.

She moved closer, halting before him. "Hello, Prince," she said, her deep brown eyes regarding him coolly. Her face was an unreadable mask, and she stood tall and proud before him.

"Hello Princess," he said softly, offering her a smile. He didn't try to escape her gaze now, but held it long, wishing against everything that she could once again look at him with love in her eyes as she had before. But she remembered none of that, he reminded himself for the thousandth time.

"Well Prince," she said in a quick, haughty tone, somehow managing to look down at him despite being shorter, "we both know why you're here. Is there anything you would like before we get started?"

He couldn't keep from being shocked by her blunt words, and his gaze fell to the floor as her eyes bored into him with such disdain he couldn't bear to look.

"Tamina, we don't..." He glanced quickly at her, and her eyebrows were raised, her eyes still cold. "We don't have to -- there's no need to...."

"Am I not tempting enough for you, Prince?"

"No! No, of course you are," he said desperately, and his hands were beginning to shake, because of course she was tempting enough, she was more than tempting, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. As if any other woman could even hold a candle to her, even begin to 'tempt' him. "It—it...it's not that." He ran his trembling hands over his hair. He had to get ahold of himself. He blew out a quick breath.

When he looked back to her, she was regarding him with cool curiosity. "Then what is it? Do you not enjoy the company of women?"

"What?"

She smirked. "Worry not, my prince. I know not how things are in Persia, but in Alamut we don't think poorly of such things. I will understand if you would prefer to share your bed with Bis than with me."

"Wha— _Bis?_ " Once he fully realized what it what she was implying, he couldn't keep from laughing. The very idea — him and Bis — it was so strange. So ridiculous. Wherever had she gotten such an idea?

"No, no, Princess," he said, a smile upon his lips, "I have eyes only for you." She had no idea how true that was.

She scoffed. "Then why do you refuse me?"

He couldn't very well explain all of that. How he was desperately, painfully in love with her, so badly that he couldn't bring himself to just share himself with her without her loving him, too. Without it meaning something.

"I only...." He didn't know what to say. "I...."

She continued to hold him in her steely gaze.

And then it struck him.

"I have had too much wine, and alas, I find myself...ill-suited for such a task."

He grinned sheepishly at her, and hoped that he was convincing. It was rather embarrassing, but it didn't matter in the end, he supposed.

Tamina glared at him before turning on her heel and striding over to the bed. "Very well," she said, "but clean sheets will produce much talk."

He shrugged. "We could always tell them we were on the floor."


	2. Untouched I Do Remain

They lay next to each other upon the bed, neither daring to move lest they accidentally brush against the other. Dastan tried to relax, but he was too hyper-aware of Tamina's presence. He hadn't been close to her in far too long, and even then, it had been in another world, a different time. Here she could hardly stand to look at him. He longed to hold her, to kiss her, to profess unto her his love. But he couldn't, not without telling her about their journey in another time.

He was afraid, really, to tell her all he knew of the Dagger, of the Sands of Time. She didn't know him in this version of things, and didn't trust him. He knew she protected the secrets of the Sands at all costs, so he wouldn't put it past her to do something drastic if she were aware of his knowledge. Something drastic like returning the Dagger to the gods, and sacrificing herself in the process. And he couldn't let her do that.

"Comfortable?" He asked playfully, trying to break the silence and the tension.

Tamina scoffed. "Of course not."

At least she was honest.

"I can sleep on the ottoman, if you would prefer it," said Dastan, shifting ever so slightly to look at her. She was staring up at the ceiling, rather determinedly.

"If someone came in and saw," she said, huffing impatiently. "It's bad enough the sheets will be clean, you definitely don't need to be caught sleeping on the ottoman."

"All right." He sighed, stretching one of his arms up to rest behind his head. "But you shouldn't worry so much what people think."

She sat bolt upright, startling him, and her eyes rained fire down upon him. "Easy for a prince — a man — to say such a thing. He won't have someone searching for proof of his purity upon the sheets!"

"Oh." Dastan hadn't thought of that. He turned his eyes to the ceiling, but could feel her gaze still burning into him.

Eventually, Tamina sank back onto the bed with a huff, rolling her eyes. He hadn't even responded. And as much as she didn't want to lie with him, she wished it could just be over with already. Then he could just leave her alone and get another wife to lie down with. But no, he'd had too much wine. Some part of her didn't believe him about that. But why on earth would he not lie with her, if he really wasn't physically incapable?

She dreaded the morning. There would be talk; doubt of her purity, or doubt of their consummating the marriage at all. And of course the latter would be true. By the Gods, they'd only been married for a few hours, and already Dastan was driving her crazy.

Dastan's thoughts raced. He didn't know what to do, because Tamina was right about the whole 'proof of purity' thing. He found it all rather grotesque, really, but he couldn't exactly change centuries of tradition overnight. Or at least not on this night. He had to stay put and hopefully make people believe he was doing more than just laying there worrying over bedsheets.

Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace. The moon crossed the sky, candles burned lower. Neither slept.

And, despite the abundance of needless complications Dastan's lack of 'performance' caused, Tamina was more and more finding herself relieved that nothing would take place on this night. Now she had an entire day to perhaps get to know him better before they consummated their marriage. It was a blessing after all, perhaps.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, almost making her jump. "About all of this. I know it's not...ideal."

"By tomorrow night you should be just fine."

"No, not about that — well maybe — well, no. I'm sorry you had to marry someone you don't like."

He must really be drunk, she thought, if he's talking like this.

"I do not know you well enough to know if I like you or not, Prince."

He smiled, and he found himself hoping again. "Well, let us hope you find me to your liking then, Princess."

She gave a very audible, " _humph_."

+++

Tamina didn't remember falling asleep, but the next thing she knew was bright morning sunlight and a warm breeze rustling the curtains. She turned slightly to look over at Dastan, only to find him gone. She couldn't rightly say she was sorry he was gone, and as she arose and readied for the day, she was glad she needn't deal with him so early in the morning. She liked having time to herself, to think and to just wake up, before having to worry about speaking to anyone.

A servant came in to fetch the sheets, and Tamina almost told them not to bother, but bit her tongue. Perhaps no one would notice. But as the bedcover was turned back and the sheets revealed, a surprise met her eyes. A small stain of red. Not enough to be worrisome, but enough to show proof of purity, to make it appear as if events had indeed transpired the night before.

No one knew of her surprise, of course. Years of practicing an expression of complete indifference paid off, but Tamina wanted to understand. He had spilt his own blood to preserve her honor. Why?

She did not see Dastan again until the evening, when a dinner was planned for his brothers and father. King Sharaman had insisted it would be a 'casual' gathering, but Tamina wasn't about to actually be casual.

She arrived at the table first, but was hardly settled before Dastan came in just after her, and settled into his place next to her.

"Hello, Princess." He smiled, his expression soft and perhaps a little tired.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. "Prince." She glanced at his hands as he brushed the hair from his face, and sure enough, one of them had a thin, freshly scabbed scrape across the palm.

"How did you injure your hand?" She asked, watching him closely.

He stilled, his eyes flickering over to her, a quick flash of cobalt before he looked away again. "Oh, I was clumsy with a knife...peeling an apple."

He was lying of course, but at least she was learning to read his actions as he lied. That would probably come in handy later. He also seemed pretty terrible at it. Which didn't bode well with the interrogation that was most likely soon to come from his brothers. Or Garsiv, at least.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked.

"What do you think?"

"I think my father and brothers are late, and I'm hungry," he replied, grinning.

"You were late yourself."

"Fashionably." That stupid grin was still on his face, and there was a glint of playfulness in his blue eyes.

"I will warn you, Prince, not to indulge so generously in your wine tonight," Tamina said, giving him a sideways glance and watching as the grin faltered and his eyes turned nervously away from her. She couldn't help but be just a little bit satisfied at being able to wipe a smug expression from a Persian prince's face.

"Brother!" Came a raucous call, and both turned to see Garsiv entering the room. He had his usual swagger, dressed in his armor and with his sword at his hip. Of course Garsiv would bring a sword to dinner.

"Hello, Garsiv," Dastan greeted, actually seeming quiet in comparison.

Garsiv sat noisily at the table, eagerly grabbing up a goblet of wine, and stared, smirking at the two of them over it.

"So, how's married life?" He asked them, a note of mischief in his voice.

"You can't expect us to know that just yet, Prince Garsiv," Tamina said coolly, regarding him with haughty eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you know _something_ of it," he said, his smirk widening into a lewd grin, "how to polish swords, perhaps?"

"Come now, Garsiv," said Dastan, his expression easy but a hint of warning in his tone, "the princess is unaccustomed to your crude sense of humor."

Garsiv shrugged and continued smirking at them.

Dastan and Tamina spared each other the smallest of glances, each thinking that this could prove to be a very long meal.

Arriving just in time to keep things from becoming too awkward were the king and Tus, and with everyone assembled, the meal commenced. Tamina watched the interaction of her new husband with his family, and they appeared very close, by the way they all laughed and joked with one another. She kept quiet mostly, unaccustomed to both the loudness of Persians and the banter of family.

"Perhaps, Dastan, you will take less risks in battle now such a jewel awaits you in your chambers," Sharaman was saying, sending Tamina a playful glance.

She gave a careful smile as Dastan laughed, looking a bit sheepish and pouring himself more wine.

"I don't know, Father, the allure of battle remains ever strong," he said.

"Besides, the princess of Alamut has more important things to do than sit around and await the return of a reckless warrior," Tamina added evenly.

Tus and Garsiv laughed. Dastan quirked a smile.

"Reckless he is, indeed," said Garsiv, and it didn't exactly sound like a joke.

"But his skill and bravery remain unchallenged," said Tus, clapping Dastan affectionately on the shoulder. Tamina was quickly recognizing his habit of smoothing out what could very well develop into arguments between the younger two princes.

"Well," said Dastan breezily, "Garsiv and I haven't fought in years."

Garsiv smirked. "If ever you need your ass handed to you, little brother, I would be more than happy to oblige."

"He has a wife for that now, Garsiv," said Tus, giving Tamina a playful wink.

Her surprise was well concealed, but present nonetheless.

Garsiv laughed. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you, Tus?"


	3. You Bow to Kiss My Hand

“Where are you going, Prince?"

Tamina watched as Dastan nearly skidded to a halt on the cool stone floor before turning to face her in the dimly lit hallway.

He hesitated before saying finally, "my chambers?"

"Well, you don't sound very sure about it."

"I thought, perhaps, you might prefer to be left alone tonight, Princess," he said, giving her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and just seemed to make him look sad.

Yes, of _course_ she would prefer it. But there were still appearances to think about, and the fact that they had yet to consummate the marriage. She didn't particularly want to, but it had to be done, otherwise the marriage could be annulled at any time, and her protection from whatever idiocy the Persians had in mind next would be withdrawn.

"Unless you have had too much wine again," Tamina said, stepping toward him, "there is something important we must do."

His heart dropped. He'd hoped to put that off as long as he could, but Tamina was insistent. Of course she was. She wanted everything done according to tradition, because her life revolved around tradition. But he knew she didn't want him, and it shattered him inside.

"Of course," was all he said, and motioned for her to lead the way.

+++

Tamina was quiet once they entered her bedchamber, and didn't turn around when she heard Dastan close the door. She went to the bed, and began loosening her outer garment, soon shrugging out of it and draping it over the bed, leaving herself clothed in only a light shift. Resisting the urge to immediately leap under the covers and hide herself, she turned back to Dastan.

He hovered near the door, fully clothed and wearing an unreadable expression.

Tamina sighed. "Prince Dastan," she said, her annoyance with him overclouding her self-consciousness. "What are you doing over there?"

"Um...." He gave her a sheepish look.

She couldn't understand why he was avoiding this so much. He should have been more enthusiastic, shouldn't he? She knew herself to be desirable, and they were married. She was practically serving herself on a silver platter. What more could he want?

He watched her as she looked at him, a hint of the irritation she was feeling visible in her eyes. She was so good at that, at hiding how she felt. But he could read her better than she thought, not that he could let on about it. 

The moonlight poured in through the windows, bathing her in silver light, framing her silhouette through the thin fabric of her shift. He let out a slow sigh. How could he resist her? She was so beautiful and powerful, and so desperately loved by him, he hardly knew if he had the strength.

"Well?" Tamina tapped her foot impatiently. "What are you doing?"

"I..."

"Why do you continue to refuse me?" Tamina demanded, anger flashing in her rich brown eyes as they gave away her emotion again. "We are married. We must do our duty, and act like it."

"But I don't..." His eyes held a sadness, a loneliness, perhaps a longing, that she just couldn't understand. "I don't want to force you."

Her mouth snapped open to retort only to clamp shut just as quickly. And she stared at him. This coming from a prince — of Persia, no less — who was accustomed to taking what he wanted when he wanted, without thinking twice about it? Unbelievable.

Dastan held her gaze, waiting for her to say something. Her eyes seemed to tear into him.

" _What_?" She said at last.

"I don't want to force you," he repeated, willing himself to move nearer to her, slowly. "I don't want you to think you have to...do anything just because of tradition. We can wait, you know." He smiled at her, a soft, gentle expression.

But she felt a swell of anger. Because of _course_ he wanted to wait.

"You wish to wait only to preserve your opportunity for an annulment in future," she snapped, glaring.

His eyes widened.

"So that when you want out you can just tell everyone you didn't _defile_ me, and be on your way. Well, Prince _Dastan_ ," she spat his name like poison, inching her way up to him, getting in his face, almost seeming to tower over him despite her smaller stature, "As much as I don't want it, I need Persia's protection, and bedding you is the only way I'm going to keep it!"

He blinked rapidly, taking a stumbling step back from her. "Tamina, no, that's not—"

"Perhaps you should have kept this plan of yours in mind before you went and bled all over the sheets to show off your non-existent handiwork!"

Her words were quick and loud, and Dastan worried someone might overhear.

Her hands flew up, ripping open the front of his overshirt and tearing it from his shoulders. He gasped, pushing her away on instinct.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, and his hands were shaking.

"My duty," she said, her eyes dangerous and cold. "I expect you to do the same."

He stood there in his undershirt, moonlight falling on him through the window, shining on his disheveled tawny hair, and illuminating his rather shocked eyes as they stared at her. And she wondered why he looked the way he did, scrambling to put distance between them, because what man would refuse his wife?

But his reaction tugged at her, and she put herself in his position. Because what if it were the other way around, and he were the one yelling about duty and ripping her clothes off while she begged him to wait?

"I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it severely, hoping she could bring that regret to her face. "I'm so sorry, I..." She brought a hand up to her head, because Gods, what was she doing? She was being monstrous. "I'm sorry."

He gave her a cautious smile. "It's all right."

She turned away from him because she couldn't stand the way his eyes were so soft now and forgiving, and the way they seemed to search her deeply.

"These past few weeks have been so...." She shook her head as she reached for her outer garment, slipping it back over her, comforting modesty bringing her back to her senses a bit. "So trying. But I never thought what it must have been like — must _be_ like — for you, too."

She glanced back at him, and he was watching her intensely, and his hands weren't shaking anymore.

"You didn't want this marriage anymore than I did," she said, "there is no love between us. I don't want to create fear or hatred or resentment in its stead."

He was careful with his expression, because _oh_ , there was so much love in him for her. But he gave a measured smile.

"I harbor no ill feelings, Tamina," he said, stepping closer and extending his hand, "and all that has happened here tonight will be...swept under the rug, as they say."

She glanced at his hand, then up at his earnest eyes and genuine smile. She studied him, so open and forgiving, so surprisingly kind, and something in her heart flickered with the hope that they could build something out of this. And she placed her hand in his.

He bowed ever so slightly, placing the softest of kisses upon her knuckles. Then his eyes met hers, filled with something intense and passionate, and she found herself turning away from him.

She felt so ashamed of how she had acted, and marveled at his lack of repulsion. She had been awful, like a predatory viper, striking out at him with venomous intent.

"You may go if you wish, Dastan," she told him as she turned down the covers of the bed. "You must strongly desire to escape my unsavory company."

"Not at all, Princess."

She looked at him, and found him by all indication to be truthful.

"Very well, then." She climbed under the covers and situated herself. "You may come to bed, or sleep upon the ottoman if you wish."

He crossed the room and came around the bed, sitting on the empty side of it and pulling off his boots before crawling in beside her.


	4. While You Keep Hindrances at Bay

Something had woken her.

She didn't know what it was at first, and looking around she found it was still dark out. She was nestled in her blankets, comfortably warm. Closing her eyes, she repositioned herself slightly in preparation of going back to sleep.

But then there it was again. A soft noise, almost like a whimper. Her eyes flew open again, and she rolled over to face Dastan.

His eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping, but a tremor ran through his body. His lips parted, releasing another sound like the one before. An almost pitiful little cry. It tugged at something in her, made her wonder what he could possibly be dreaming of that would illicit such a sad sound.

His head thrashed to the side, his hands curled into fists, and his breaths came quick and shallow.

Tamina pushed herself up on her elbow, debating on whether she should wake him or not. He was clearly trapped in a nightmare, probably of some particularly horrific battle or other. He was a warrior, after all. She knew that wars revealed horrors no person should ever witness.

The moonlight illuminated the sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow, and even in sleep his face wore a pained expression. A second tremor went through him, accompanied by another, louder, cry.

He bolted upright like a shot. The suddenness of it sent a surprised Tamina falling onto her back.

He raked shaking hands through his hair, the rest of his body trembling as she heard him gasping, trying to catch his breath from the edge of panic. His shoulders heaved with the effort.

She felt pity for him, for the probably irreparable damage that violence had inflicted upon his unconscious mind. She actually wanted to comfort him. But she wasn't sure if she should let him know that she saw what he would most likely deem as weakness.

He groaned, falling back against his pillows with his hands over his face. Gradually, his breathing slowed, and he let his hands fall to rest upon his chest.

From where she lay, Tamina was startled by the look on his face, one of despair, and his eyes carried a weight in them.

"Dastan," she whispered, still unsure if she was right in letting him know she was awake.

He turned to her, his face slipping into a more neutral expression. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" He asked softly.

She shook her head. Yes, technically he _had_ , but she certainly wasn't going to tell him that. "I was already awake."

He nodded, and turned away again.

Tamina sat up. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

She could have rolled her eyes, if only she weren't genuinely worried about him. "Your dream, Dastan. I couldn't help but notice...."

"Oh."

Silence drifted between them. Tamina found herself fidgeting with the covers.

Dastan was deep in thought. He honestly would have liked to talk about it, get some of the weight of it off his chest, but there was no way he could. No way he could lay there and tell her he had relived the deaths of his family, of his best friend...of her.

"Would you like something to drink, perhaps?" Tamina asked him.

He turned blue eyes to her in surprise. And then a grin crept into the corners of his lips. "You'd wait on me?"

"Don't expect it to be a regular thing, Prince," she told him, nudging him in the ribs, relieved to see him joking around.

"I won't," he replied, grin widening a little more. "And yes, I would like something to drink. If you don't mind."

"Do you think I would offer if I minded?"

"No."

+++

When she returned with wine, Dastan had moved to the balcony. She joined him, handing him one of the two cups she had brought, and pouring them both a drink.

They drank in silence, looking out over Tamina's private garden, its fountains and trees, and listening to the quiet murmurs of the birds sleeping in their nests. Her garden was always quiet, tucked far away from the everyday hustle and bustle of the city streets. But at night, a magic fell over it, soothing and peaceful beyond description.

"I dreamt of death," he said suddenly.

She glanced up at him in surprise, and he was staring out, seemingly beyond the garden walls and somewhere far, far away.

"One of your battles?" She asked softly, watching him.

He smiled sadly and shrugged. "In a sense."

She wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but as much as she may have wanted to, she didn't pry. Instead she repeated her earlier question: "Do you want to talk about it?"

He acted as if he were about to speak, only to hesitate, and bring wine to his lips, drawing out the silence as he drank long and deep, emptying his cup of its contents. He had a haunted look about him; something dark and damaged danced behind his eyes, something Tamina wanted to understand but was also fearful of the answers. What must befall a man to give him that look?

"It...It's not something to be spoken of," he said at last, his voice hushed, his tone heavy. "Not something I can talk about easily."

Tamina refilled his cup and watched him drink. "I understand."

Silence fell once again, both of them partaking of the wine and the night air. It was cool, and the sky twinkled with stars, the moon a slender silver crescent hanging at the edge of the world.

Eventually, Dastan turned to her with an easier expression in his eyes, a smile coaxed onto his face by the wine. "Tell me, Princess, what do you dream of?"

"What?" She asked, turning her brown eyes upon him.

He leaned into her, so close she could feel his warm breath on her face. He smelled of wine and his eyes roved up and down her face, not in a hungry way, but a gentle way of interest and intimacy, the kind that always seemed to accompany the consumption of wine.

"What do you dream of?" He asked again, his voice low and throaty, the breaths of his words brushing against her lips.

Her own words failed to pass her throat, and every thought was consumed by his closeness. She wasn't intimidated or fearful. Something in her told her that Dastan would never harass her. There was this deep-seeded pull inside of her that urged her to close the gap between them. She blamed the wine, but somehow she knew that wasn't the real reason.

"I dream of many things, Dastan." She was grateful her voice came out strong and clear, as if she weren't acutely aware of his lips being mere inches from her own.

"Tell me your dreams, Princess," he whispered, "So that one day I may tell you mine."

She glanced down, smiling softly. "Often, I dream of my childhood. Of my parents."

Dastan leaned against the balcony's rail, inadvertently putting more distance between them. "Your parents?"

"Yes. And the stories they would tell me, and of the things we used to do together." Tamina gazed out at the garden, and it seemed almost as if she could see her mother, beautiful and bathed in warm sunshine, laughing and singing, picking flowers and setting them in Tamina's hair.

Tamina relayed this to Dastan, along with memories of her father, how he would teach her to sword fight, how he would take her horseback riding, and how her mother would take her down to the kitchens, where they would cook alongside the servants. Her mother would sing, and Tamina and her father would dance. Tamina carefully avoided the memories of her parents preparing her to be a Guardian of the Dagger. That took up most of their time, it seemed. 

"I was very young when they died," she said quietly, an ache filling her chest at the thought of that terrible day, "But I remember everything about them. They were kind, and loving. We were happy."

Dastan smiled. "That's nice."

"And what of you?" She asked. "I understand you were adopted into the royal family. Have you any memories of your life before the palace?"

Dastan turned thoughtful. He had many memories of his life before becoming a prince. Most were consumed by the ever-present, gnawing pain of starvation. The rest seemed to revolve around keeping Bis alive and out of trouble.

But he merely shrugged, looking up at the stars. "Some."

"Tell me," said Tamina, and when he glanced back to her, her rich chestnut eyes were focused intently on him, waiting for him to speak.

"Well, I was a regular little thief, except for on the rare occasion I could beg some coin off someone. Bis was better at that, the begging. I suppose it was because he was smaller and younger, and more endearing with those curls of his."

"Were there no orphanages in Nasaf?" Tamina asked, frowning. There were many orphanages in Alamut, run by caring people who made certain that children were looked after, fed, and given a warm, safe place to sleep.

Dastan shook his head. "Not back then. After I was taken to the palace, I think my father realized how bad it was, so he did something about it. There are homes for the orphans now, more often than not. And left over food and scraps from the kitchens are given out to the homeless." There was something that had come over Dastan's face, it was almost like watching him drift away into a memory. But Tamina saw that it wasn't a pleasant memory.

"Tell me, Dastan," she said, drawing him back to the present, "how did you manage to get adopted by the king of Persia?"

He smiled, drifting again, but looking less troubled. "By trying to get Bis out of trouble. Again." He chuckled. "He had a knack for chaos. Still does, in a way."

Dastan relayed to her that day in the market, when Bis had become entangled in some turmoil yet again, and Dastan had nearly lost his hand trying to get him out of it. But the king had appeared, and for some reason been compelled to whisk Dastan away to the palace and make him a prince.

"Garsiv wasn't happy about it at all," recalled Dastan, shaking his head in amusement at the memory. "He said all sorts of things not meant to be spoken in front of a lady."

"Why does that not surprise me at all?" Said Tamina.

"Ah, he got over it. Mostly."

"What about Tus? Was he angry, too?"

Dastan shook his head. "Nah. He was pretty indifferent, really. But he was older, too interested in girls to pay much attention to two rascals fighting each other for no good reason."

"That doesn't surprise me either."

Dastan laughed, his eyes lighting up in a way that brought a smile to Tamina's face.

"I expect it wouldn't surprise his flock of wives, either," he joked.

It was Tamina's turn to shake her head in amusement. "No, I expect not."

They drank more wine, Dastan telling her about his adjustment to royal life. "I slept on the floor for weeks because the bed was too soft," he told her, and it made her sad just thinking about it. "They kept a close eye on me, trying to make sure I wasn't stealing — Father didn't know about that of course — and to keep me from running off. But one day, about two weeks after I got there, I managed to sneak off and find Bis. He thought I'd been imprisoned or worse, and he didn't believe me when I told him I was a prince. So I brought him back to the palace, barged into my father's chambers, and demanded he adopt Bis, too."

"I take it he didn't?"

"No. But he gave Bis a position in the stables, made sure he had a place to sleep and food to eat."

"And what did Bis think of that?"

"Oh, he liked it well enough. He had food and security, he had opportunities, and we saw each other every day. I don't think it ever occurred to him to be jealous that he wasn't adopted, too. But he's a brother to me just as much as Tus and Garsiv."


	5. Visions of Death

Dastan urged his horse to a full gallop, chasing after Tamina and her mount. The princess was an excellent rider, which he already knew, of course. But seeing her out there, past the city walls, dressed as a commoner with the sun shining down on her and a playful glint in her eye, daring him to a race...well, it brought him hope once again, that perhaps things between them could be as he wished.

Tamina glanced over her shoulder, laughing as she saw the Persian prince scrambling to catch up to her in a cloud of dust. How surprised she had been, when he'd asked her that morning if she would like to go out riding, in disguise no less, so that they may go where they wished. She assumed the outing sprang from their conversation the night before, about how her father had taken her out riding. Though Tamina was surprised that Dastan had managed to remember much of what they talked about, considering how drunk he had gotten in order to fall back asleep.

"You're too slow!" She called over her shoulder.

"No I'm not!" He shouted back.

She spared a quick glance at him, and saw that he was gaining. She urged her horse onward, the noble steed picking up speed, thriving off the thrill of the chase.

Soon he was passing her, laughing loudly at her face as he did. She let out a huff of disdain and pushed on. But all too soon, their mounts' strength waned, and Dastan had, unfortunately, won the race.

"Who's too slow _now_ , Princess?" He asked with a sly grin as they watered the horses.

"Oh, do be quiet," she said, but she couldn't keep the smile from her face. "Don't gloat."

"Very well, Princess," he said, but there was a promise of mischief in his eyes. "However, as the winner, I _am_ entitled to a prize."

Her face fell into its usual indifferent expression. What was he up to? "We never agreed to that."

He grinned cheekily as he stepped closer to her. "What shall I ask for, Princess?" He circled her, and she watched him as he did, glaring at him, albeit halfheartedly.

"A kiss, perhaps?" Dastan stopped right in front of her, looking down at her flushed cheeks and sharp eyes. He wouldn't actually kiss her if she didn't want him to, but on the off chance she _did_....

"You wouldn't dare."

"Well, we _are_ married after all, and you're the one who said we should act like." Dastan's tone was infuriatingly nonchalant as he inspected his fingernails absentmindedly before glancing back at her, his grin ever-present.

Tamina actually rolled her eyes. "And _you're_ the one who said you wanted to wait to perform such 'marital duties'."

"That _is_ true...."

"We never discussed a prize, Dastan," she said, hardening her expression.

He glanced to her, saw how she had straightened her stance, drawn herself up to full height and put that haughty look on her face again, clearly defensive against his playful advances.

"Very well," said Dastan. He didn't want to push her. Of course, he was aching for her touch, for her kiss, but if she didn't give it to him because she loved him, he knew it wouldn't sate him.

It didn't fail to catch Tamina's attention how Dastan's face had changed suddenly; his mischievous grin had softened to a rather dejected smile, and his eyes once again held that deep, somber weight in them that they seemed so often to carry.

Regardless, they soon enough resumed their lighthearted banter, and as soon as the horses were well enough rested, they set off again.

+++

It was afternoon when they returned to the palace, smuggled back in with the help of Bis. They were hot, dusty, and tired, but feeling renewed in a way, to have spent the day is such a pointless and carefree way.

"Have a good time?" Asked Bis as he held the reins of Tamina's horse while she dismounted. He was smiling, his dark, playful eyes bouncing between her and Dastan.

"Yes, thank you," said Tamina, returning his smile.

As Dastan dismounted, Bis addressed him. "Your father was looking for you."

Dastan frowned. "Why?"

Bis shrugged, taking the reins of Dastan's horse as well. "I don't know. He just told me that next time I saw you, I should tell you he was looking for you."

"Well, I better get changed and go see what he wants," Dastan said, giving Tamina a nod and a smile before turning to go inside.

"I'll help you with the horses, Bis, if that's all right," Tamina said, and in reply, Bis handed her the reins of her horse, grinning.

As they headed to the stables, Bis said, "I'm a bit surprised you want to help, actually."

Tamina laughed. "Well, I'm full of surprises."

"Yeah, I believe that. I think that's why Dastan likes you so much," Bis told her, "you're different and interesting."

"Am I?" Tamina wasn't too surprised to hear that Dastan liked her 'so much'. The way he looked at her sometimes gave that away. But she wondered if he'd told Bis something about his feelings that his actions hadn't already given away to her.

"You are. You're not what you appear to be at first glance."

"And what do I appear to be at first glance?"

They had reached the stable now, and walked into the forgiving shade of the building. Bis gave her a sheepish glance.

"Well, you kind of come across as...well...a spoiled princess. But you're not! I mean, here you are, in the stables, with the horses, and me."

"Yes, and I sword fight, too," said Tamina, a smile playing on her lips.

Bis looked at her, surprise on his face. "Really?"

Tamina nodded. "And quite proficiently, if I do say so myself."

"Is that so?" Bis asked, a twinkle in his eye.

+++

Satisfied that he was presentable enough to meet with his father, Dastan found him standing by the window in one of the many rooms in the palace filled with cushions and chairs.

Sharaman turned as Dastan entered, beaming at him. "There you are, my son."

Dastan smiled in return. He would never again take for granted his father's presence. Never again miss an opportunity to talk with him. Not after what had taken place in the Other Time.

"You wished to speak with me?" He asked, crossing the room.

"Yes I did," the elder man replied, embracing him, "how is marriage suiting you? Well, I hope."

Dastan laughed quietly, returning his father's embrace. "You can't expect me to have a reliable answer just yet, Father. I've hardly been married long enough to tell."

"Of course, of course," Sharaman only laughed, letting him go and patting him on the shoulder. "Well, this is not the only reason I have called on you. We have business to discuss."

"Surely Tus and Garsiv should be here to discuss it as well?"

The king shook his head. "It is not... _ordinary_ business I wish to discuss. Here, let us sit."

Dastan sank onto a cushion opposite his father, and sat in silence, waiting for him to elaborate.

The older man sighed, and looked at his son. "You must promise not to panic when I tell you this."

Anxiety pierced Dastan's chest at these words, but he nodded. "Of course, Father."

With a deep breath, the king at last spoke.

"I have foreseen my death."


	6. Caught Up In Circles

"I hear you thought Dastan and I were _lovers_."

"He told you?!"

Bis nodded, looking far too pleased with himself. 

Tamina lunged at him, only for her advance to quickly be deflected. It was irritating, not to be able to wipe that cheeky grin from his face. He seemed to enjoy teasing her very much.

"Whatever gave you such a _preposterous_ idea?" He far too easily parried another hit.

She let out a frustrated grunt. "It's really not _that_ preposterous." She wiped a hand across her brow, trying to mop up some of the sweat. It seemed as if she were doing all the moving, and Bis was just standing there.

He gave her a dubious look. "Oh _really_?"

"Yes, really! You're always together."

"We're not together _now_ ," he said before taking a swing at her.

She dodged, knocking his blade aside. "You know what I mean."

"Actually," he said, casually striking her blade, "I don't."

+++

It wasn't unlike being punched in the stomach. Dastan's breath caught in his throat, leaving him breathless.

"You what?" His thoughts raced and he fought to keep the panic that was rising rapidly in his chest from overcoming him completely.

"You promised you wouldn't panic, Dastan," said Sharaman far too calmly.

Dastan swallowed hard, cupped his hands over his knees to steady the trembling, and said, "I'm not panicking. Why aren't you telling Tus and Garsiv this?"

Sharaman gave him a rather skeptical look, but answered nonetheless, "You know that Garsiv has little respect for anything of a spiritual nature, Dastan. And Tus...." The King sighed. "Death already weighs too heavily on his mind since he dealt with your uncle's betrayal."

Dastan didn't miss the sadness in his father's eyes, and it made him despise Nizam all the more. How could he break that sacred bond between brothers, break his brother's heart, and all for what? Power? Dastan had thought the danger had passed, but with the news his father brought, fear was renewed in his heart. He began to worry that Nizam's treachery could affect them still, even from beyond the grave.

"If you are calm," said Sharaman, "I will tell you what I saw."

"I am calm," Dastan assured his father again, but found that he was trying to assure himself even more. But he had stopped his hands from shaking, and his voice was steady. He kept his eyes trained levelly on his father, assuming a neutral expression. "Tell me everything."

"There is not much to tell, my son," said the king, "I dreamt that I saw myself die. The cause of my death was unclear; but the moon above was full as I breathed my last. I feel that my end will come in a few days' time, along with the full moon."

Dastan breathed out slowly, feeling as if the air were being squeezed from his lungs. Even disregarding the events of the Other Time, Sharaman's premonition was concerning, and very likely true. Dastan didn't consider himself a superstitious man, or even particularly spiritual — at least, not until the Dagger — but one thing he'd always believed in were his father's dreams. Sharaman, throughout Dastan's childhood, had had quite a number of these visions, and he would relay them to Dastan and Tus. Usually they were fairly small or seemingly irrelevant things, but sometimes they were frightening. Like this one.

"What are you going to do?" Dastan asked, feeling helpless and frightened like a child when faced with the prospect of losing his father. Again.

"Do?" Sharaman actually laughed. "I'm not going to do anything. After all, it could be nothing. And if not, I have made my peace, for it is destiny, my son, and a man cannot run from his destiny."

+++

 _A man cannot run from his destiny._ Dastan paced around the circular fountain in Tamina's garden, wringing his hands, then running them over his hair, then doing it all again. Was it Dastan's destiny that he should lose his family, lose Tamina, always? Because, if his father's death was taking place, would the others follow? Was it written in stone somewhere that they all must die?

He rued the day he came across that godforsaken dagger. The horrors and turmoil it had put him through...he didn't think he could go through them again, he didn't think he could survive losing his family and Tamina again.

He came to an abrupt halt, staring down at the bubbling water of the fountain. Maybe he was too quick to assume the worst? Maybe his father had been mistaken? If not, perhaps his brothers and Bis and Tamina would remain unscathed? But what if he wasn't overreacting? What if his assumption was correct? If fate was so eager to kill, why wouldn't it just take him and be done with it, rather than torturing him like this?

"Dastan?"

He looked up and saw Tamina standing there on the path, a shaft of sunlight beaming down and framing her in gold, giving her the appearance of an angel.

Tamina quickly registered the alarm in Dastan's eyes as he glanced over at her, the lines of worry that carved through his features.

"Are you all right?" She asked, approaching him.

He forced himself to relax a bit. "Yes," he said, weighing what he could and couldn't tell Tamina. He wanted to confide in someone about all of this, desperately, but he just couldn't tell her all that he knew and all that had happened. So, he found a middle ground. "It's just that...well, it seems that my father has dreamt he is going to die soon."

A strange look passed over Tamina's face before she concealed it beneath her usual masked expression. "Oh?"

Dastan sank down onto the stone rim of the fountain, looking down at his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I know, it sounds rather silly...."

Tamina sat down beside him. "You are far too worried for me to consider it silly."

Dastan sighed, rubbing his hands down his thighs, resting them on his knees, before turning to her. "He sees things sometimes, before they happen. I can't lose him, Tamina."

His hands started to shake again; he pressed them into fists and tried to keep breathing slowly, even as his thoughts and heart began to race again. That horrible sickening feeling seized his stomach, like missing a step on a staircase.

The state he was in reminded Tamina of how he was after his nightmare. He looked helpless and frightened, and it made something in her ache. She reached out and laid her hand gently on one of his fists.

He glanced over at her, and saw a warmness in her brown eyes as he opened his hand and let her entwine her fingers with his. Her touch, her presence, it calmed him, even as the thought of losing her again danced at the back of his mind.

"Perhaps his vision is wrong this time?" Said Tamina, in a soft tone her mother had often used when comforting her as a child. She found that holding his hand seemed so natural it surprised her.

Dastan looked down at their hands. "But what if it's not?"

"Then it is destiny, and there's nothing to be done about it."

Dastan dropped her hand like it was made of fire, leaping to his feet. Tamina gasped, startled at his abruptness.

"Destiny be damned," he growled, and though he had his back to her, Tamina knew he was seething, his muscles taut and his breathing increased.

She frowned. One did not just go around cursing fate. "Dastan, that's no way to talk about the Gods."

"Oh, damn them, too!" He turned on her, his eyes filled with rage and fire.

She stood up, anger boiling just inside, though she managed to keep it suppressed. "Dastan! Stop it! What has gotten into you?"

"I'll tell you what's gotten into me. I'm tired of faceless, all-powerful bullies meddling with my life, my family's lives! I just want to be left alone!"

"I would think you of all people would be grateful for their so-called 'meddling', considering they allowed you to become a prince." Tamina's voice wavered with her barely concealed temper. How dare he blaspheme?

"Oh yes, they've been kind indeed," he spat. "It's not like I had to watch my poor brother kill my uncle because of them and their stupid D—" He stopped, the color draining from his face. The rage that had built in him melted away. He'd almost let it slip. He'd almost told Tamina he knew about the Dagger.

"Their stupid what, Dastan?" Tamina's mouth was set in a firm line, her eyes spitting fire. But she was curious. Was he talking about the Dagger? If so, how much did he know about it, and why did he hate it so much? Why did he despise the Gods, why did he detest fate? She hoped he was just throwing a fit simply because of his father's vision, but somehow, she knew there was more to it. He didn't seem the type to react to a simple dream this way. But how would he know about the Dagger?

"...Nothing," Dastan said, seeming suddenly very subdued. His eyes, no longer filled with the flame of fury, flitted around, seeming to focusing on anything but her. "I just...think we should...be able to determine our own destiny."

She recognized the signs of a lie. He really was terrible at hiding things. She believed the part about him wanting to determine his own destiny, but not the part where that was what he was going to say while he was shouting. There was more to him, there were secrets, and he seemed to be determined to keep them hidden from her.

But she was equally determined, perhaps more so, to find out the truth of what he knew. 


	7. Flashback

As they prepared for bed that night, Tamina pondered the possibility of getting the truth out of Dastan by means of seduction. Seduction worked on many men, and yet she found herself doubting that it would work on Dastan. She knew he was attracted to her, that he was surprisingly fond of her for some reason, but she reasoned that it was just that fondness that would prevent seduction from working. So she just crawled in bed and watched him take off his boots, not saying a word.

He had disappeared for awhile after their encounter in the garden. When he'd returned, he was covered in sweat and had his sword with him, so she assumed he'd been sparring with Bis, working out his feelings that way, rather than talking about them.

Now he seemed dejected and exhausted, and as he climbed into bed next to her, he sighed heavily, lying with his back turned to her, and not saying anything. He hadn't really spoken to her since he got back, and she hadn't put forth the effort to try to make him.

He lay still next to her, his breathing even, so she turned her back on him and soon enough drifted off to sleep.

+++

_It seemed that there was fire all around her, yet at the same time, darkness, and she recognized the chamber of the Sandglass. A loud rushing sound filled her ears. A terrible pain consumed her arm and shoulder. She hung over nothingness. And only the tenuous clutch of a hand kept her from falling to her death._

_"Let me go." Her voice trembled, even as she commanded him._

_"I'm to letting you go!" He was crying, his body straining to keep not just her from falling, but him as well._

_"I wish we could have been together," she sobbed, painfully trying to free herself from his grasp._

_Tears streamed down his face, and he wept unrestrainedly, desperately trying to keep a hold of her. "No!" He cried, bloodied and broken._

_His fingers closed more tightly around her wrist. But she slipped her hand out. And as she fell, overcome with sickening terror, she screamed out his name._

_"Dastan!"_

+++

Tamina bolted upright, his name a whisper on her lips as she woke. She gasped, trembling hands clutching her sweat-soaked chest as her eyes travelled desperately around the room. She was not in the Chamber. She was not dead. She had not fallen. It was only a dream. But these thoughts could not calm her racing heart. And it had felt so real.

"Tamina?"

She glanced over to see Dastan sitting up, brows knitted in concern. She looked away.

"What's wrong?" He asked, cautiously reaching out and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"A nightmare." She still fought for breath, unconsciously reaching up and grasping his hand, needing something to hold onto. "I was falling, and you...." She froze. Like ice up her back, the reality of the dream set in. Dastan. Dastan had been in the Chamber. He had tried to save her. She had sacrificed herself. But it was only dream, surely. Thoughts of the Persian king's premonitions crept into her mind. The dream had been so vivid...What if...?

Eyes wide, she looked back to Dastan, only to see that he looked even more shocked and frightened than she felt. His hand slipped from her shoulder, and he seemed almost to shrink away from her, his eyes wide and frantic, his face shockingly pale.

"I fell to my death," she said, and he seemed to flinch at the words. She wasn't calm, but knowing she was onto something, that she was getting close to his secrets, brought her panic down to focus. "And you were there, Dastan."

He averted his eyes like a scolded dog, slipping out of the covers and putting distance between them. He was silhouetted against the balcony doorway, his back turned to her. He was still.

"Dastan." Tamina threw back the covers, rounding the bed and coming to a halt just behind his shoulder. "What aren't you telling me?"

She had made up her mind that he knew something about the Dagger. How much was still a mystery. But that dream...it must have been a sign from the Gods...what it meant exactly, she wasn't sure. Perhaps they were trying to let her know he knew things he shouldn't. Perhaps they were telling her she could trust him. Or that she couldn't.

Dastan's thoughts raced, his heart pounding in his ears. His hands shook, his breathing was ragged, and he couldn't bring himself to worry about controlling it. Tamina had dreamt of her death. Right after his father had dreamt of his death. Who was next? What did it mean? Had the others already seen themselves die and just not mentioned it? Would they all die...again? He wondered if he should tell Tamina everything. She would hate him, he knew, for lying. But that was selfish. There was so much more at stake than just his heart.

"Dastan," she said again, her voice hard and demanding. She was bringing up her walls again. She was going to get the truth out of him, he knew it. She was bracing for a fight.

Well, she wouldn't have to fight.

Working to steady his breathing, he slowly turned to face her. She had a stern, unreadable expression on her face, her lips pressed tightly together.

"I want the truth, Dastan," she said, studying him intensely. She didn't miss the tremble in his hands and breath. But she didn't care anymore if he was upset. She needed to protect the Dagger, at any cost. But she needed to know what all he knew.

"And I will give it to you, Tamina," he said quietly. "But, it's rather a long story, so perhaps we should sit." He motioned to the ottoman, and begrudgingly, she obeyed his request.

He sank down next to her, releasing a heavy sigh before everything fell silent. She waited with bated breath, forcing herself not to order him to speak, not to push him.

At last, he spoke, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. "I know all about the Dagger, and the Sandglass."

Although Tamina had already figured as much, she couldn't keep the horrible grip of fear from closing around her chest upon having her assumption confirmed. The secret that generations of Guardians had lived and died to protect, the secret that she had given up most of her time and freedoms for, had been spilled to an outsider. All the sacrifice had been for naught.

"How?" She asked, her voice tense, like a string pulled taut.

Dastan gave her a quick glance, shame and something akin to fear lurking in his blue eyes. "Because of my uncle. Nizam knew about it first, that's why he framed Alamut for making weapons, why he organized the attack on your city. Because he wanted an excuse to get in here, and find it."

Tamina rose, huffing in anger. Just exactly how many people knew about the Dagger? Did the entirety of the Persian royal family know its secret?

"Who else knows?" She asked, beginning to pace.

"Just me now."

There was some relief in that, she supposed.

"But...."

Of course there was a 'but'.

"Your guardians have been corrupted..they're helping the Hassansins—"

" _Hassansins_?" Tamina halted, turning to him. "What do you mean, _Hassansins_? I thought that you Persians had done away with them?"

Dastan ran his hands through his hair, his eyes tired, his shoulders hunched under an invisible weight. He sighed. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning."

"Yes, that might be a good idea," Tamina said sharply.

Taking a deep breath, he explained how he had come upon the Dagger, inadvertently acquiring it from Asoka.

"Yes, and then you gave it right back to me," said Tamina, halting her journey to and fro to look at him. "This doesn't explain how you know things."

"If you don't interrupt me anymore, I'll get to that," he said.

She humphed and resumed her pacing.

But Dastan wasn't sure how to proceed. In the next part of the story, things got tricky to explain. He had reached the point where the timelines diverged, which meant he would have to tell her right off the bat that there was another time, an alternative series of events, where his uncle lived, and she and his family died.

"Well, get on with it, then." She prodded him.

"Something happened with the Dagger," he said, fighting the feeling that his throat was closing up. He didn't want to relive those horrible days that no longer existed. And he didn't want Tamina to hate him. But he had to tell her. "There was...there were things that happened, another version of events, that nobody remembers but me, because technically, they never really happened...in this time."

He watched her cautiously as she rounded on him, her eyes hard and face set. "What are you saying, Dastan?"

"I'm saying...I lived through a time that the Dagger apparently erased."

"But the Dagger only goes back one minute—"

"Yes, I know that," he said, "But the Dagger...the Dagger pierced the Sandglass."

"You pierced the Sandglass?!" Tamina exclaimed, shock and anger clear on her face, eyes flashing.

"It was my uncle," he said quickly, " _he_ pierced the Sandglass."

Tamina glared at him. She was at a loss. She was angry and confused, and so far all that she knew was not only did some Persian know the secrets of the Sands of Time, he had perhaps taken part in committing the one most forbidden thing a person could do.

"Under the guise of searching for weapons forges, he searched for the Sandglass. And he committed," Dastan swallowed, "he committed terrible acts to get his hands on the Dagger."

She continued to stare at him, at his wide eyes and veracious expression, noting the sincerity he seemed to possess as he watched her.

"Just how long did this 'other time' last?" She asked finally.

Dastan thought for a moment. "I didn't exactly keep track. A week and some days, at least."

Tamina's eyes bulged, and she scarcely kept her mouth from dropping open. "A week and some days?!"

Dastan nodded, and she couldn't understand the hint of a smile that twitched at the edges of his lips. "Yes."

"And we knew each other in this 'other time', did we?"

"Yes." He gazed at her with a sudden intensity, all smiles gone.

Well, she knew now how he was so strangely fond of her. He had known her long before she had known him. Just why he was so fond of her was a different thing entirely.

A sudden thought struck her. "Were we...married, in this 'other time', too?"

"No."

"And just what 'terrible acts' did your uncle commit, Dastan?"

"Come and sit, Tamina, and I will tell you everything."


	8. No Ordinary Dagger

Tamina didn't sit, but nevertheless, he told her everything. She was quiet as he spoke, taking it all in and watching him closely. She detected no lies in his words, and in fact, it seemed hard for him to talk about them, the events of the other time. 

When he reached the part where she had told him the story of the first Guardian, she could scarcely believe that she had been the one to tell a Persian prince the sacred secrets of the Sands of Time.

" _I_ told you?" She asked incredulously. 

"Yes, you did," Dastan replied, giving her a sad smile. "You trusted me enough."

Despite everything, she understood how that other her could have trusted him. Again, she felt that strange pull deep inside, the pull toward him. Perhaps, somehow, some of that trust and familiarity from the Other Time had lingered.

Dastan related to Tamina the story of how Nizam had saved Sharaman's life when they were boys. He explained how he had figured out that Nizam wished to travel back to that day, and let Sharaman die.

"So it was then that we realized that Nizam would pierce the Sandglass with the Dagger, and break it, therefore unleashing the Sands upon the world, causing Armageddon."

He continued on, relaying their misadventures as they tried to reach the sanctuary in the mountains.

But he stood suddenly, his hands shaking as he strode abruptly to the balcony. Tamina followed, about to ask him what happened next, but stopped when she saw his face. His eyes were haunted, his jaw set, and he seemed far away, despite standing right next to her.

Cautiously, she laid a gentle hand on his arm, hoping to bring him back to the present. She assumed whatever he was about to tell her, whatever had happened next, was something terrible indeed.

He appeared to come back to himself, glancing at her before looking out over the garden, and resuming his tale.

"It was at the sanctuary that we were attacked by Hassansins, the Dagger was taken, and Garsiv found us, but he believed me when I told him I was innocent. And then...." He paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, grasping the balcony's railing as he tried to get his hands to stop trembling, all the while the image of Garsiv lying there, bloodied and gasping, played over and over in his mind, as if it were happening all over again. "Garsiv was killed."

Tamina let out a slow breath. He'd had to watch his brother die. She didn't know what to say, but kept her hand resting on his arm, hoping to comfort him. He was quiet for a little while, getting lost in his memories.

Finally, he picked up where he left off, but fell into silence again when his narrative reached their meeting with Tus. Eventually he collected himself enough to state that Nizam had slit Tus's throat right in front of him, and ordered a Hassansin to kill Dastan, only for Tamina to rush in and save him. It was then that they discovered that the Guardians had been corrupted.

They travelled through the passages to the Sandglass, confronting and killing the last Hassansin. Tamina noticed how Dastan seemed to skip some details here, after telling her how she'd saved his life a second time. She wondered if perhaps something had happened between them then, if the other her, perhaps, had loved him.

"We confronted Nizam, tried to stop him, but...." Dastan's eyes were far away. "He was ruthless. He...pushed you over the cliff, and I managed to catch you, but...." He turned away, and she could tell he was fighting through his memories.

"But I fell?" She prompted gently.

He nodded.

"In my dream, I sacrificed myself. You wouldn't let me go," she said, gripping his hand. "Nothing that happened was your fault. It seems to me that I chose my fate."

He didn't respond, and wouldn't look at her. She could feel his hand trembling as she held it, and she wasn't sure what to do to help him. He was reliving those terrible days, when he'd had to watch everyone he cared about die at the hands of someone he thought he could trust. She couldn't imagine it. Her own parents' deaths had been hard enough without someone she trusted taking them from her.

"What happened next? Did Nizam pierce the Sandglass then?"

"Yes," he murmured. "I couldn't get to him fast enough after you...and I grabbed hold of the Dagger, because I thought that maybe if I pulled it out, the Sandglass could mend itself, but the crack grew, and the Sands spilled out into a whirlwind, both of us being swept away. The next thing I knew, I was standing over Asoka with the Dagger in my hand, and Bis ran up to me, and...it was as if nothing had happened."

They were silent, the conclusion of the story reached. Tamina turned all of this information over and over in her mind. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

Dastan watched her as she stood next to him, deep in thought, the soft warmth of her hand resting upon his a great comfort.

The moments ticked past, and still neither spoke. Dastan fought to keep his mind from wandering to the events of the other time, while that was all Tamina could think about. Her thoughts strayed to that moment in the story, after she had saved Dastan's life a second time, how he had stumbled over his words and quickly moved to the next thing that happened. She knew he had skipped over something that had taken place between them.

"Dastan," she said at last, looking at him, meeting his eyes as he turned to her. "Did you love me? In the Other Time?"

He exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting away from hers. "Yes." He reached out, taking a lock of her raven hair ever so gently between his fingers. "Still do, actually." His gaze met hers again, partly cautious and partly longing, but completely loving.

"And did I love you?"

He was quiet, letting her hair slip from between his fingers and fall back to her shoulder. He gave her a small, sad smile. "I think you're not the type to kiss a man unless you love him."

She felt warmth creep into her cheeks, and unconsciously she pulled her hand from his, feeling for some reason embarrassed by the actions of her other self. She didn't realize this gesture made Dastan's heart ache. He misunderstood it, thinking she was repulsed by the idea of kissing him.

"So I kissed you?" She asked, keeping her tone even, though unable to keep her eyes from flickering down to his lips.

"Yes." He gave a small chuckle. "Quite well, I might add."

Her blush deepened, and she turned away. "Dastan," she chided softly, a smile toying with her lips.

"What? It's true." He ached to hold her, but figured she didn't want that. He ached to kiss her once again, but was certain she didn't want that, either. Still, he felt lighter than he had in weeks, having her know how he felt. It wasn't unlike removing heavy armor after a long, exhausting day, telling her the truth of what he knew of the Dagger and the Sands of Time.

Tamina cleared her throat, becoming more serious. "So the Guardians are corrupted?"

Dastan nodded solemnly. "I don't know for how long."

She picked at a thread on her sleeve, her arms resting on the railing. "And the Hassansins...do you think, without Nizam, they will still come after the Dagger?"

He turned his body away from her, leaning against the railing, looking out over the garden. A hint of dawn shone in the eastern sky. "I wouldn't be surprised.

She brought a hand to her forehead, trying to curb the sick feeling rising in her chest. She knew what she must do. She also knew that if Dastan knew, he'd try to stop her. She put a smile on her face, and though it came across rather forlorn, it was enough. "Let's try to get some more sleep. We'll be better equipped to deal with this well-rested."

Dastan's brow furrowed slightly, and at first she feared he saw through her. But then he nodded. "All right."

Together, they walked back to the bed, and settled beneath the covers. Tamina knew it was foolish, knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't keep herself from asking it of him.

"Will you hold me, Dastan?"

Without a word, he scooted closer to her, and he welcomed her into his arms. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed in her scent. Jasmine, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. His heart swelled as he held her, brimming with hope that she could love him, perhaps did love him already. He was surprised by her request, but he let himself enjoy it, his eyes fluttering closed. Despite the fate of the Dagger hanging over their heads, he was content in this moment to simply enjoy her presence, and fall asleep with her head upon his chest.

His embrace felt right to her somehow, like coming home, and she didn't understand why. But now was not the time to try to understand it. She would wait for him to fall asleep, and then she would take the Dagger and return it to the Sanctuary, where it would be unreachable to anyone who threatened it.


	9. The Path I’m Born to Tread

The moment he awoke, Dastan had an awful feeling. It was gut-wrenching, an inordinate anxiety that told him that something was very, very wrong.

He sat up, the late morning sun shining in brightly, giving the illusion of warmth and comfort, and he saw that the bed was empty. He threw aside the covers, bare feet hitting the stone floor as he cursed himself, because he should have known. He should have known what she'd do.

Hastily, he pulled on his boots, rushing out the door, hoping against hope that she didn't have too much of a head start on him. He had to stop her from returning the Dagger. He had to stop her from sacrificing herself. He couldn't lose her. Not again.

+++

There was a deep ache in Tamina's chest as she and Asoka made their way toward the sanctuary. She actually missed Dastan, and wished she could have come to know him. But more than anything, she was afraid to die, and she was ashamed of it. The terror she felt in her nightmare as she fell to her death, it threatened to consume her and force her homeward. She wanted to live. But her life was not her own; it belonged to the Gods, and it was dedicated completely to the protection of the Dagger and the Sandglass. Once she returned the Dagger, the Sandglass would diminish, would become nothing more than a useless relic.

It was just over a day's journey to the sanctuary from Alamut, and Tamina knew the path well, as did Asoka. She knew that if Dastan followed after her — and she was sure he would — he wouldn't travel as quickly on the unfamiliar path, and her task would be complete by the time he found her.

+++

"And just where are _you_ going in such a hurry?"

Dastan glanced up from fastening the saddle to his horse to see Bis studying him with a quizzical expression, his arms folded over his chest.

"I...." Dastan turned back to his horse. "I'm just going for a ride."

Bis scoffed, coming closer, leaning against the stall. "With no breakfast? And saddlebags filled with provisions? Does this have anything to do with whatever was wrong with you yesterday?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"You've always been a terrible liar." Bis sighed, taking a bridle off its hook and heading to his own horse's stall. "So, where are we going?"

" _We're_ not going anywhere," Dastan told him, taking up his horse's reins and beginning to lead the stallion out of the stable.

Bis shot him a fed up look as he walked past. "Stop it, Dastan, I'm coming with you."

"No you're not."

Bis rolled his eyes. "Yes I am."

"No, you're not!" Dastan called over his shoulder.

+++

"So, where are we going?" Bis asked once they had exited the city.

Dastan didn't answer at first, going over the path to his destination in his mind. He still remembered the way, for the most part, despite having begun his journey from a different location in the Other Time. He knew which way he needed to go.

"Dastan?"

He turned to Bis. His friend had a look of deep concern on his face, his dark eyes searching for answers. Dastan gave him a small smile. "I wish you would stay here, Bis."

"As if I'd let you go into whatever this is alone," said Bis, adjusting the reins of his horse. "Just tell me what we're doing, exactly."

"I can't give you all the details, and I'm sorry for that. But it's very important. And Tamina is in danger."

Bis paled. "Has she been abducted?"

Dastan shook his head. "No. But there is danger on the path she treads, and danger awaits her at her destination."

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Bis grinned. "Lead the way, my friend."

"Thanks, Bis." Dastan said, reaching out and placing his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Bis gave his hand a good-natured pat. "You owe me a favor now, Dastan."

Dastan's smile widened into a grin. "We'll see about that."

He gave his horse a light kick, urging the steed into a gallop. Bis followed close behind, dust billowing behind them as they made for the hills. Dastan couldn't keep his mind from wandering to that day out riding with Tamina, and his heart clenched. He hoped he could reach her in time. He didn't know what he'd do if he was too late.

+++

Tamina was reluctant to stop for the night, but she did so anyway. Despite her decision, she still was reluctant to sacrifice her life. But she knew she would have to be completely and utterly surrendered to her fate by the time she reached the Sanctuary if she wanted her mission to succeed.

Asoka built a small fire, and surrounded by darkness and desert, they sat in silence. The wind whipped lose strands of hair that had escaped her braid into Tamina's face, but too absorbed was she in her thoughts to brush them aside. This was it. In just a few hours, she would be dead. The Dagger would be out of reach, no longer dangerous, but despite this fact, she warred within herself, trying to subdue the urge to live.

+++

Dastan and Bis rode hard, never stopping, even as night fell, deep and dark. Bis asked no questions, and Dastan could not keep from feeling guilty about the amount of trust his friend placed in him, despite being kept in the dark about their mission. Dastan had half a mind to just tell him everything, or at least explain the Dagger to him. But ultimately, the decision of entrusting yet another person with the secret rested with Tamina.

+++

In the darkness grew an unseen shadow, a shadow darker than the night. It travelled unheard and unnoticed, pursuing the two riders as they pursued their princess, but with a purpose much more foul....


	10. If I’m Lost

Tamina was nearly asleep when something caused her to jump to full alert. She sat up, looking to Asoka, and saw that he, too, was on his guard, his sword clasped in hand. She took up her own weapon, glancing around at the unforgiving darkness, the fire only providing them with a small circle of light.

"Do you see anything?" She whispered.

"No, Highness," replied Asoka, creeping nearer to her. "But the night reveals little."

She rose to her feet, and they stood almost back to back, scanning their surroundings with unease, tense and prepared to fight if the need came for it.

The sound grew louder, recognizable now as muffled hoof beats on sand, coming from the direction Tamina faced. She gripped her sword more tightly with one hand, the other coming to rest on the Dagger in its pouch. Asoka circled around her, placing himself between her and whoever approached.

The hoof beats came near and halted, and shapes were visible just outside the light of the fire.

"Who goes there?" Demanded Asoka, sounding strong and sure.

Tamina held her breath, her heart pounding in her throat, awaiting either an answer or an attack.

"Prince Dastan," replied a voice.

Of course Dastan had followed them. Asoka shot her a questioning look over his shoulder, and she nodded, sheathing her sword. Asoka followed suit as Dastan stepped into the circle of light, trailed closely by Bis. Asoka's hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword, but Tamina placed her hand on his arm, signaling that there was no threat.

"Why have you followed us, Prince?" Asked Tamina, her emotionless mask present once again, skillfully hiding the fact that she was, despite herself, very relieved that he was there.

"I know what you're going to do, Princess," said Dastan, moving a hint closer, his blue eyes staring intensely into her own.

"Well _I_ don't," said Bis nonchalantly, "you know, just in case someone wanted to tell me." 

Silent glances from the other three were his only answer. 

He shrugged. "Or not." Casually, he crossed to the fire, partaking of the remnants of Tamina and Asoka's meager supper, settling himself on the sand, entirely too nonchalant.

Asoka gave Dastan a hard glance, one that Tamina read as distrust. She had informed Asoka and the rest of her inner circle of Dastan's knowledge of the Dagger, but time had been short, so many details of the story were glossed over. Basically, all Asoka knew was that Dastan, an outsider, a Persian, the man who had breached the walls of their city, who had attacked him and stolen the Dagger those weeks ago, knew the secrets of the Sands of Time, had kept his knowledge secret, and that his uncle had tried to exploit those ancient powers which Tamina's people had guarded for centuries.

"You should not be here, Persian." Asoka spoke harshly, dark eyes flashing.

Dastan's eyes flickered to Tamina's, searching for her opinion on all of this. He was loathe to leave her, to allow her to go through with this dreadful plan of hers, but if she ordered him to, he would leave. It would break him completely, but he was willing to obey her. He held his breath as she studied him, her gaze direct and unforgiving.

Her eyes flickered downwards. "It's all right, Asoka," she said, "his presence isn't unwelcome."

"But Highness," Asoka ventured, an expression of troubled confusion passing over his features, "It is because of him that we—"

"No, it is because our ranks have been infiltrated by enemies of both Persia and Alamut that we must do this," she said, stern and proud. "I fear those enemies may not be far behind us. Prince Dastan and Bis will help us reach the end of our journey, and complete our task."

"What's in the bag?" Bis asked through the food in his mouth, motioning to the red pouch that hung from Tamina's belt.

Dastan and Asoka were silent, waiting to see what information Tamina was willing to pass on.

"It is an ancient and valuable religious object," said Tamina briskly. "Certain parties wish to obtain it for unholy practices. Our aim is to place it safely in a secret sanctuary in the mountains."

"Why all this bother over some antique?" Bis asked, his lack of reverence rubbing Tamina the wrong way. "What, is it _magical_ or something?" He wiggled his fingers as he said the word 'magical', clearly not realizing just how close to the truth he actually was.

"Bis..." Dastan's tone held a warning.

Bis shrugged, studying his companions' tense expressions, his own almost amused. "All right, all right. I'm here to help. And I won't ask you any questions, if that makes you feel any better."

Dastan forced himself to relax, trying not to focus on the iron stare of Asoka, who most certainly didn't appreciate not just one, but two, Persians invading this most holy and secret of missions.

"Very well," said Tamina, giving Bis a terse nod and striding briskly back to her blanket. "We will rest here for the night. At first light, we make for the Sanctuary."

"Surely, we should waste no time—"

Asoka cut Dastan off. "Her Highness has spoken. You would do well to listen, Persian."

Dastan bowed his head. "Of course."

He caught Tamina's gaze, the firelight reflecting in his large eyes that looked not unlike two shining sapphires, the flames casting dramatic shadows across his chiseled features. His brown hair, shining in the warm light against the darkness, was disheveled from his journey, his cheeks and jaw rough with stubble. Tamina couldn't keep herself from admiring his looks, her eyes and thoughts drifting to his lips, and she found herself wishing she could kiss him in this time. Just to know what it was like. To know if his lips were as soft as they appeared. To know if her heart would soar at the intimate touch.

As Tamina settled down upon her makeshift bed once again, Asoka hovered near her, eyeing the Persians with disdain. He trusted his princess's judgement in allowing them to stay, but he didn't trust Dastan.

Bis and Dastan tended to their horses, and laid out their blankets, resting side by side beneath the stars.

"Dastan," Bis said in a hushed tone, and when Dastan turned to him, he asked, "this is all a lot more serious than just some silly old religious relic, isn't it?"

"You said you wouldn't ask questions."

"I told Tamina I wouldn't ask _her_ any questions. C'mon, I'm your best friend. Tell me what all this is about."

Dastan exhaled heavily, turning away from Bis's trusting, imploring gaze. The stars stretched over them like a twinkling canopy, an endless universe that seemed to be trying to show Dastan just how small and insignificant even the most serious of his tribulations really were. But it didn't make him feel any better about keeping things from Bis.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, "it's not my place to tell you."

Bis sighed. "Okay. I don't get it, really, but I trust you, so okay."

+++

"Tamina!"

Tamina bolted awake. Dastan was grabbing her arm, pulling her to her feet, and she heard the frantic whinnying of the horses. It was still dark. The fire burned low. She could scarcely see.

"What—"

"No time!" Dastan said breathlessly, tugging her toward her horse.

There was a hiss and a thud somewhere behind her.

"What kind of snakes—?!" She heard Bis shout.

She turned to see but Dastan was lifting her up onto her horse.

There was a louder hiss. Her horse whinnied in panic, rearing up as a large black snake came hurling through the air toward her. She ducked, screaming.

"Persian, get her out of here!" Asoka shouted.

"Working on it!" Dastan yelled back, and he circled around to his own horse, mounting quickly.

Tamina's eyes darted around the camp. The sand seemed almost to boil as snakes slithered just beneath the surface, springing out, jaws open, fangs poised for attack. Bis and Asoka, armed with torches and their swords, stood back to back, fending off as many of the serpents as they could.

"Tamina, come!" Dastan's voice tore her away from the odd and terrifying scene. "We must go!"

"But we can't just leave—"

"Yes you can! Go!" Bis shouted.

Asoka dodged an attack with his sword. "Get out of here!"

With a last glance, Tamina turned her horse and rode off into the darkness, Dastan following close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy do I hate writing anything resembling an action scene lol


	11. Destiny

They rode hard, reaching the Sanctuary just an hour after dawn. Draped in morning fog, the sight of the modest mountain dwelling flooded Dastan's mind with unpleasant memories. The last time he was here, he had watched his brother die, and the Dagger had been taken. He forced himself past these thoughts. His focus should be on the present, where he could still save his brothers, still rid the world of the Dagger. But....

He glanced over at Tamina astride her horse, beautiful and powerful as the dawn. But to save the world she would have to pay the ultimate price. He couldn't bear the idea. It tore him apart inside to think of losing her again.

"Tamina...."

"No, don't." Her eyes remained trained on the sanctuary in the valley below them. "Don't, Dastan. If you ask me not to do it...." She brought her dark eyes up to meet his gaze. Her face was set, her usual mask settled over her features. But her eyes swam with sadness. "...I'll give in. And I can't, Dastan. I can't give in." Her voice caught, and she turned away, leading her horse down the mountain trail.

Dastan's eyes burned with unshed tears, but he fought them back. He was being overcome with all that he had felt when he lost her the first time, and overwhelmed with all that he was feeling now that he was going to lose her again. But he had to stay strong. He had to help her complete her mission, help her protect the world. But what would the world be worth without her in it?

+++

"Soon," said their leader. From atop the hill he and his men watched the two travelers dismount. "Let them get inside, see our handiwork. Then they will be trapped. Then we will strike."

"The others will come."

"Not soon enough to save their friends, or their precious Dagger."

+++

Dastan entered first, and it was just as he had feared. The inhabitants of the temple were all dead, undoubtedly slain by the Hassansins. He turned to warn Tamina, but she was right on his heels, and saw everything.

"I'm sorry, Tamina," Dastan said, his tone hushed in the silence.

She squared her shoulders, forcing her eyes away from the bodies strewn so callously across the ground. "Come, we must hurry."

Brushing past Dastan, she made her way deeper into the chamber. He stuck right behind her, his eyes searching their dim surroundings, his hand upon the hilt of his sword, ready to fend off any foe that might present itself.

When they reached the far wall, Tamina began running her hands along the cool stone, searching for the secret latch to open the hidden door that led to the hidden chamber. There, she would insert the Dagger into the opening in the stone, and return it to the Gods. There, she would meet her end, sacrifice herself. She knew she must. But deep inside, she still battled against her desire to live. Her desire to stay in this world she was giving up everything to save, and explore the future she might have had with Dastan.

Dastan scanned around them, tension building inside him with every passing moment. He was on edge, expecting the Hassansins to attack at any moment. He tried to keep his focus on looking out for them. But his thoughts wandered to what Tamina was about to do, no matter how strongly he fought not to.

He watched the narrow opening of the temple like a hawk. He nearly held his breath waiting for the warm sunshine to be blocked by shadows, shadows of those that hunted them.

"Hurry, Tamina," he urged quietly, sparing her a quick glance.

She grumbled at him, still searching for that confounded latch. It was too well hidden, she thought. Perhaps too warn by age, too little used. She prayed she could find. Though there was a small, nearly suppressed part of her that hoped she wouldn't. But that was selfish, she knew. Her life versus the lives of every other person on earth. The solution was easy. She knew she must sacrifice herself. She knew she must find the latch.

One second there was nothing. The next, chaos. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. And they attacked just as quickly.

The pair scarcely had time to react as a shower of sharp metal spikes shot toward them. They leapt out of the way.

"Hassansins!" Cried Dastan.

Tamina tried to catch her breath, watching as Dastan and the Hassansin bearing a large sword circled each other. Another made his way through the doorway, weapon already drawn. The spiked Hassansin made his way deeper into the chamber, nearer to Tamina.

Tamina's blood ran cold at the sight of them. They were far worse than she had imagined. Seemingly wrapped in a shroud of darkness with an evil look in their piercing eyes. She turned back to the wall, frantically feeling for the latch.

Dastan faced his opponent with swords drawn, never taking his eyes off him. The Hassansin's lips curled back in a sneer.

"You should not have left your friends behind," said the villain, his voice cold and malicious. "Now you are vastly outnumbered."

Dastan didn't glorify this blatant taunting with a reply. Instead, he attacked. His sword-strikes were quick. But his foe matched his speed with almost inhuman swiftness. The sharp sound of blades clashing echoed off the surrounding stone. It sent a chill through Tamina's bones.

Her hands glided over the wall, her eyes scarcely leaving the Hassansin that approached. He glowered at her, his gaze foreboding and filled with malice.  
  
"It is no use, Princess," he sneered, "you cannot escape. The Dagger is ours."

Just then, her hand caught on the latch. She gasped. Filled with a mixture of relief and terror, she pulled it. With a deep groan, the heavy stone slowly slid open, scraping across the floor.

Dastan and his opponent continued their battle, his eyes, for a brief second, flickering to the opening door. He saw the spiked Hassansin closing in on Tamina. He had to stop him. He had to keep these attackers from getting to her. He had to keep them out of the inner chamber.

Still keeping his opponent's blade at bay, Dastan managed to work his way closer to Tamina. The door was still opening at an agonizing pace. Tamina hovered near it, her eyes fixed on the spiked Hassansin, her hands gripped around the red pouch that held the Dagger. As soon as the opening was big enough, she slipped inside into the inner chamber.

The spiked Hassansin raised his hand as if to shoot, but Dastan acted quickly. He sent one of his short swords flying. It struck the Hassansin in the shoulder, causing him to go stumbling backward. But Dastan's distraction from his original foe cost him dearly.

A blunt, heavy blow struck him in the back, setting him off balance. As he turned toward his attacker, the sharp blade of a sword met him. It tore into his side, a cold, stinging pain. It was yanked roughly from him, and would have stabbed him again if he hadn't regained his senses.

He parried the Hassansin's blade, pain tearing up through his torso, the warm ooze of blood creeping down to his leg. Gritting his teeth and shutting out the pain as best he could, he fought to dispatch his opponent quickly. The sooner he was rid of this fiend, the sooner he could get rid of the others.

"Dastan!" Came a call, and a quick glance told him Bis had arrived. Asoka was engaged with the third Hassansin.

Bis rushed to his friend's aid, taking the brunt of the Hassansin's attack. Dastan, his empty hand clutching uselessly at the hemorrhaging hole in his side, tripped toward the opening to the inner chamber.

The spiked Hassansin was not vanquished. As Dastan passed by him, the villain ripped the sword from his shoulder. Blood spilled from his wound, but the injury seemed to hold little sway over him. He raised his hand, sending another volley of his deadly missiles flying toward Dastan.

By some luck, they missed their target. As Dastan entered the inner chamber, a brief feeling of relief fluttered through him at the sight of Tamina. There she was, alive yet, but standing on the brink of her own demise. In her trembling hands she held the Dagger, and before her was the small opening to which the object would be returned. It seemed almost to glow with the same dull, warm light that the Sandglass had.

"Tamina," He said, his voice hoarse, strangled with emotion and pain.

When she turned to him, there were tears streaking down her face and swimming in her dark eyes. Her expression turned to horror at the sight of him, the blood, and the broken, imploring look in his startling blue eyes.

"I wish we could have been together," she said, her voice breaking, her hands and the Dagger inching nearer to the stone.

Dastan felt himself shatter, his mind failing him as he remembered the first time she had spoken those words. Had looked at him with that same anguished expression. The first time he had lost her.

Another volley from the spiked Hassansin interrupted them, and sent them scrambling for safety. The enemy had entered the room, and behind him another closely followed. But from the outer chamber, the sound of fighting continued, giving hope that Bis and Asoka yet survived.

Before the spiked assassin could reload his weapon, Dastan, with a great shout, charged him. The blade of his remaining sword now found its mark, sinking into the cold, evil heart of the Hassansin. But a foe still remained.

Armed with a labrys, he advanced, his face contorted in a look of pure wickedness. Dastan wrenched his sword from the body of the spiked Hassansin, scarcely having time to deflect the forceful blow from the labrys. The strike sent him staggering, a shock of pain jolting through his body. He cried out, from pain and anger. He could feel a weight settling in his limbs, a fuzziness in his head and vision. But he was determined to dispatch this foe before he met his own end.

Tamina, briefly overcome with horror, now collected herself. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she could hear nothing over it. There was pain etched on Dastan's face as he fought, but there was nothing she could do to help him, save rid them of the Dagger. She scrambled to her feet, a determination settling inside her. Her fist held firmly around the hilt of the Dagger, she rushed to the wall, and plunged it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, more action scene ughhh


	12. You Can Look and You Will Find Me

Dastan had the impression of blinding sunlight burning through his closed eyelids. His body was heavy, and pain enveloped him, coming in waves that crescendoed almost unbearably. He could see nothing. His ears betrayed him also; a loud ringing noise had overcome him. He was unable to move, and thought maybe that he was dead. Perhaps it was just as well. He had seen her put the Dagger in. He had seen her die. Perhaps he was being overdramatic or overly self-pitying, but he felt that without her, there was nothing left for him on earth.

A distant, echoing sound reached him through the fog. It was a thudding that grew louder. He felt a large weight lifted from him, and heard a voice that sounded miles away.

The droning, wordless tone began to morph, and shapes swam into his vision.

"Is he alive, do you think?"

"Dastan?"

Dastan forced his heavy eyelids to open. He lay on the cool, damp stone floor of the inner chamber, and on either side of him crouched Bis and Asoka, their faces etched with concern.

Bis sighed in relief. "You're alive after all."

"We feared you had perished," said Asoka, "when we found you buried under that Hassansin, and with all that blood...."

"Yes, you're not out of danger just yet, my friend," said Bis, his gaze traveling over Dastan's wound. "We've got to get that bleeding stopped, and quick."

Dastan struggled to sit up, but the pain and loss of blood defeated his efforts.

Gently, Bis pushed him back down. "Lie still."

"The Hassansins?" Asked Dastan, wincing as Asoka rather roughly pressed a wad of fabric against his injury.

"All dead," replied Bis, even as he tore more fabric from the clothing of their slain enemy. "Apparently, when Tamina stuck the Dagger — which apparently _is_ magical, after all — in that hole in the wall, a bright light shot out and...melted them."

"Tamina?" Dastan tried to sit up again, and succeeded, though pain shot through his body and throbbed with every racing beat of his heart. "Is she...?" He couldn't bring himself to say it.

Bis grinned at him. "That's another strange thing that's happened."

Dastan furrowed his brow. "What?"

"See for yourself, Persian," said Asoka, nodding somewhere over Dastan's shoulder.

Dastan turned, ignoring the pain that flared with his movement, and what he saw he almost couldn't believe. If not for the fact that Bis and Asoka both saw it too, Dastan would have feared it a most cruel illusion.

There was Tamina, smiling and alive, and though there were tears that trickled down her cheeks, she seemed almost to glow with happiness.

"Tamina." Her name escaped his lips, a ghost of a whisper, as his heart leapt for joy. He could scarcely believe it to be true, even as she came nearer and knelt before him. 

"You're alive," he managed, cupping her perfect cheek in his calloused hand. "How? I thought—?"

She placed her own hand over his. "They gave me back," she smiled like the sun, all while more tears slid down her cheeks. "I won't explain it now, but they gave me back, and, Dastan...." She brought her other hand up, placing it gently over his heart. "I remember everything."

"You...." Dastan felt his heart skip. "You remember everything?"

She nodded, her smile growing, a laugh bubbling up from her throat. "Yes, _everything_."

Dastan couldn't understand how, but at this point he didn't care. He was just glad she was alive. Glad that she remembered how he loved her, what they had together. Elation washed over him, drowning out the pain, the exhaustion, everything. There was only her. And there was only one thing he wanted to do in that moment, and that was kiss her.

He leant forward, slowly, his eyes scanning her face, checking for permission. She gave it by closing the little space between them, and pressing her lips against his. It was gentle, and innocent, it was like coming home after being away for years and years. There was an ache that had settled deep in both their hearts that was eased by the touch of the other.

"Okay," said Bis after a moment, "this is all very romantic, but we've got a wound to tend to."

+++

Dastan stood on the balcony, the late afternoon sunlight illuminating the strands of auburn in his hair. A light breeze blew up from the garden, shifting the loose fabric of his shirt and fanning his hair against his face. 

He knew he was supposed to be resting in bed, but he was never one to just lay about doing nothing. That's why it had irritated him so much when he hadn't been able to go with Tamina to speak with the council. But she insisted he still looked pale, and made him stay behind.

He'd been awaiting her return for hours, but he knew that discussing the changes brought forth by returning the Dagger was no quick matter. He could still hardly believe that it had all happened, and that Tamina was alive. She had yet to actually explain how it had all happened, but there really hadn't been much time for them to talk since they'd returned.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. For a brief second, he thought it could be Tamina. But he figured she wouldn't have bothered knocking.

Stepping away from the balcony and back into the room, he bade the visitor come in.

The door opened, revealing Bis, who was carrying a rather large tray piled high with food and drink.

"I thought you might want to eat," said Bis, grinning and stepping into the room. "Plus, I figured you were bored, so I thought I'd bring the food myself and supply some company."

Dastan smiled at his best friend, closing the door behind him. "Thank goodness. Since Father left hours ago, all I've done is sit here. I'm going stir-crazy."

Bis laughed, setting the tray on the ottoman and sitting down beside it. "You're supposed to be in bed, aren't you?"

Dastan groaned, sitting across the tray from Bis. "If I had to stay in that bed for one more minute—!" He shook his head, taking up some food and placing it gratefully in his mouth.

They partook of the meal in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the calm and each other's company after such a trying venture.

"That Asoka fellow explained it to me, the Dagger," said Bis, at last breaking the silence.

Dastan raised his eyebrows, surprised that Asoka of all people would tell a Persian, even a helpful one, anything of importance. "Really?"

Bis nodded. "Yeah, he didn't seem too happy about it, though. But I guess he figured I needed to know something of what I was up against." He shook his head in apparent disbelief. "Crazy stuff, right? Who'd have thought?"

Dastan let out a rueful laugh. "Certainly not me. How much did he tell you?"

Bis shrugged, eating for a moment before replying. "Oh, just some stuff about a giant sandstorm and the end of days and how that 'religious object' Tamina was carrying had to power to cause Armageddon, so you and her were returning it to some sacred hole. It all sounded like complete nonsensical blather to me until I saw all that light come out and melt those Hassansins."

"Well," said Dastan, feeling some of the weight lift from his chest, "I'm glad you know now. I would have told you, but...."

"I know, I know," said Bis, nudging Dastan with a playful fist. "Sacred secrets and all that." He paused, a puzzled expression suddenly coming over his features. "How did you find out about it, anyway?"

"Um." Dastan wasn't sure how much he was willing to tell. If he told Bis the whole story — which he longed to do — he would have to tell him of his own death. It didn't seem right, telling someone about their own death. "Nizam knew about it, I'm not sure how. That's why he did all those things to force an attack on Alamut. He wanted to get in and find the Dagger, for whatever nefarious reason."

"Ah," said Bis, seeming satisfied with that answer. "Well, at least it's gone now." He grinned. "You won't have to worry about it anymore, and can focus on your wife. I know you said you didn't want to stay in bed, but I'm sure you won't say no if she decides to join you."

Dastan couldn't keep the red from creeping up his cheeks, and the sheepish grin that stole across his lips didn't help his case.

"She's quite nice, and surprisingly fit. Did you know she can swordfight?"


	13. I Remain

Tamina was exhausted, practically dragging herself up the numerous steps to her bedchamber. The council meeting had dragged on very late into the night, because even just explaining all that had happened had taken ages.

Then she had to navigate the fallout of the loss of the Dagger, and everything that it meant. Yes, there would still be Guardians, watching over the Sandglass though it would diminish, but everything would be so different. Her children would have choices, rather than automatically being forced into a life of guardianship.

And the fact that she was even alive after returning the Dagger was a miracle in and of itself. She had been meant to die. And she had made that sacrifice. But the Gods, or Destiny, or what have you, had other plans for her. She nearly understood. But she wasn't about to seem ungrateful. She was overjoyed to have her life.

And she had more than that: she also had the gift of her memories, the gift of remembering how ardently she loved Dastan. She would never stop thanking the gods for giving that back to her. Her heart swelled at the thought of seeing him again, of knowing that she and him would be all right, that they would be happy together. That they loved each other.

At last, she reached her room, and quietly opened the door. A candle burned low on the bedside table, bathing Dastan's sleeping face with gentle, warm light.

Closing the door silently behind her, Tamina crept across the room, reaching the end of the bed and leaning against the bedpost. A smile crept across her face as she watched him; his slow breaths, his peaceful expression, the soft shadows that framed his face.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to wake him. So she quietly went about preparing for bed, glancing over at him occasionally. Soon enough, she crawled into bed next to him, carefully pulling the blankets over herself, trying not to move too much as she settled in.

Apparently, her efforts were in vain, because he shifted, a soft sound escaping him, and his eyes fluttered open, brilliant blue focusing on her as his lips curved into a sleepy smile.

"Hello," He said, voice hoarse from sleep. "When did you get here?"

"Only just now," she replied softly, reaching over to stroke his cheek.

He caught her hand, moving it downward and pressing his lips to her palm. The soft touch, so warm and gentle, so loving, tingled on her skin, and sent a shiver through her that caused her eyes to flutter closed.

He smiled against her skin, his heart soaring, because his Tamina was back. And she loved him. And she was alive, and so was he, and they could have their life together the way he'd so desperately wished. Moving her hand from his lips, he gently tugged on her arm.

She gave him a warm smile, scooting closer to him, until they were wrapped in each other's arms, pressed so close that each could feel the heartbeat of the other. The embrace was warm, and full of love, full of all the things still unsaid between them.

Tamina buried her face in Dastan's chest, reveling in the safety of his strong arms. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, slowly breathing in her scent and relaxing against her, so glad that she was here.

Tamina could have fallen asleep, but there was still too much to talk about. She sat up, turning to look at him, regrettably loosening their embrace. Dastan draped his arm around her waist, and she placed her hand lightly on his chest.

"Dastan," she said, looking down at her fingers as they picked at the thin fabric of his shirt, "I want to tell you all that happened."

She brought her eyes back up to his face, and he was watching her intently.

"Tell me, then." He gave her a soft smile. "I will listen."

She sighed. "There's still so much that I don't understand...."

He shrugged. "Well, tell me anyway, and then we'll not understand together." His soft smile had morphed into something more akin to a smirk.

She smiled, nearly laughing. "Yes, all right," she said, and then launched into her tale.

It was all very strange, and as she said, she hardly understood it herself. The moment she had placed the Dagger back into the stone, she found herself in a bright white space, empty of all detail. 

A bodiless voice had spoken to her; it seemed to be made of many voices, and seemed to come from everywhere all at once. She knew it to be the voice of the Gods.

"They spoke to me, of the debt I had repaid, the sacrifice I had made. They told me I could move on, or I could go back, but to decide, I would have to remember." She breathed deeply, a surge of emotion overcoming her, tears brimming in her eyes. It had been so overwhelming at the time, and just talking about it, recalling it, made her want to weep. 

"And I did remember, Dastan. All at once, everything came back. Everything you had told me. And you..." she reached out, cradling his cheek in her hand, her thumb running along that little crescent-shaped scar, drawing a soft smile from him. "You came back to me. And I asked Them why...why They had let me remember, why I had the choice to come back...but, being who They are, the answer was vague and evasive. They just told me that to fulfill my Destiny, I had to make my decision."

Dastan chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"So I decided. And I came back. Then I saw you, on the ground in a pool of blood, like an idiot."

"But a heroic idiot, I'm sure," he teased softly, reaching up to lightly tap her freckled nose.

"Yes, _very_ heroic." She smiled, leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

He kissed her back, slowly, savoring the taste of her, the feeling of her body next to his, and her hands upon him. He threaded his fingers into her loose raven tresses, sank into her embrace, breathed her in. His heart swelled, and he smiled against her as he felt himself brim over with joy. 

She would never grow tired of kissing him, she knew. And this time, she was glad their kiss wasn't because they were heading to certain death, or because they had narrowly escaped it, but simply because they loved each other.

At last, all was well.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is. I feel like I’m pretty bad at endings, but hey, it doesn’t matter, what matters is I actually wrote the entire thing so that’s a feat in and of itself.
> 
> I hope this was an enjoyable read, and thanks for sticking around ‘til the end :)


End file.
